This means she’s sold so many books that she’s now being paid extra money on top of her initial payment.
‘That’s fantastic!’ I exclaim.
‘Bridget, her royalties are crazy,’ he says quietly, disbelievingly.
‘Oh, Charlie, I’m so pleased for you both.’ I know how much easier that will make things for him and April.
‘I’m thinking about joining you in Thailand.’
My jaw hits the floor. ‘Are you serious?’
He nods.
‘No! You are kidding me!’ My happy balloon is threatening to burst right out of my chest. ‘Oh, my God! That’s amazing!’
He smiles at my reaction. ‘I’m glad you’re pleased.’
‘Of course I am! I can’t stop talking in exclamation marks! Look at me!’
He laughs.
‘Oh, my God.’ I clap my hands against my cheeks, stunned and a little beside myself as I let it fully sink in.
‘So, if Elliot comes, I’ll get to meet him, after all,’ Charlie says pointedly.
Now why does that idea make me suddenly feel so cold?
Charlie hasn’t been to London in ages, and April has never been at all, so the next day we go into town to do some sightseeing. April likes the lions in Trafalgar Square and the guards in their red uniforms outside Buckingham Palace, and afterwards we head to Regent Street and go into Hamleys. I buy April a bubble machine for her to take back home with her, remembering how much she liked the music man’s bubbles.
Charlie wants to nip into a clothes shop, so I tell him we’ll meet up in half an hour. In the meantime, I go and buy April an ice cream, because what the hell, I want to spoil her.
We wander into the White Company so I can check out swimsuits for April – I’d like to get her one for Thailand. Whether or not they still have them at this time of year is another matter, but I can pick up some PJs for her if not – I’ve bought them for other friends from here before.
We make it to the back of the store before a sales assistant greets us.
‘Good afternoon,’ she says brightly, looking from me to April. Her mouth gapes open and the blood drains from her face.
‘Oh, no,’ she says with horror. ‘No, no, no, you can’t eat in here.’
Another sales assistant spies us and hurries over, just as I crane my neck over the pram to see that April’s face and hands are covered in chocolate ice cream.Oops.
‘No food in here!’ the other sales assistant calls, beckoning madly to a third person.
Together the three of them shepherd us out of the shop, their eyes wild and their arms locking us in like a jail, making sure there’s zero chance of April’s sticky fingers reaching out to brush chocolate goo over their pristine, perfect, immaculate white clothes.
I make it out of the shop and almost keel over with laughter on the pavement.
I’ve sobered up by the next day. I’m nervous as Charlie follows my directions to Vince’s house. We’ve timed it well with April’s nap – she’s fast asleep when we arrive in New Barnet, north London, where Vince lives. His house is a tan, pebble-dashed semi next to a brown brick apartment block. There’s a white van parked in the front drive with the name of his landscape-gardening business painted on the side: ‘GARDENS BY VINCE’.
He’s not what you’d call inspiring.
Charlie pulls up outside the house and looks out of the window. I follow his gaze. Eventually, he turns to me. He stares straight at me, but doesn’t say a word.
I still haven’t made any move to get out of his pickup.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ he says at last.
I shake my head and jolt into action, opening the door and climbing out onto the road. I can feel Charlie’s eyes tracking me as I walk around the front of his vehicle and up Vince’s drive. I knock on the white, plasticky-looking door.
